Just Be
by scared of clouds
Summary: Lily & James. Seventh year. Five conversations that changed everything. One-shot. Cover art by anxiouspineapples.


**A/N: Hi guys! So...sort-of-songfic. First one I've ever done, and it was sort of accidental actually. **

**When I write Jily, I tend to write down scraps of dialogue as and when it occurs to me; quite a lot of it then provides the bare bones for Jily scenes in my fics, but a fair bit ends up on the cutting room floor, as it were.**

**So, I was playing around with some of the odds and ends of dialogue, sort of pulling them together to see where they took me when I realised that the tone of them fit really well with a song I was listening to at the time. So I kind of wove them around the song lyrics and came up with this. **

**I hope you guys like it, because I'm actually a lot more pleased with it than I thought I would be. **

**So this was inspired by - and is based on - "Just Be" by Paloma Faith, a _beautiful_ song that I totally recommend. You may want to listen to it and/or read the lyrics to get the full feeling behind this. In fact, even if you stop reading right here and ignore this one-shot entirely, you should still listen to it because it's fantastic.  
**

**Five conversations between Lily and James; each break indicates the start of a new conversation, and all five take place over the course of seventh year.**

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'Oi Evans!'

Lily didn't even have a chance to close her book before James landed on the sofa next to her with an almighty thump. The entire sofa rattled with the impact, and she dropped her quill, spilled her drink and lost her page all in one go. Closing her eyes she took one, two, three bracing breaths before addressing the boy who was now sat alongside her.

'I assume you wanted something James?'

James propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa and stuck his hand in his hair before flashing her that ridiculously magnetic grin of his. 'Someone's in a good mood.'

She bent over to retrieve her quill and threw it onto the coffee table. 'What makes you say that?'

'You called me James. It's always James when you're in a good mood. The rest of the time it's Potter.'

'Then I assume you wanted something _Potter_?'

James let out a loud, rippling laugh, his whole face lighting up with it as his teeth flashed and his eyes shone. Lily bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing along with him; it was infectious, that bloody laugh. It made everything inside her light up for some inexplicable reason.

Well, no, it wasn't inexplicable; rather she just didn't want to entertain the likely explanation at the moment. There were some things she wasn't sure she'd _ever _be ready for, and _that _was top of the list.

Eyes still crinkled in the corners from the laughter, James shifted round in his seat to face her and spoke quietly. 'I was wondering if you'd started that essay on Boomslang skin for Slughorn yet?'

Lily raised an eyebrow, and picked up the book in her lap; she closed it and held it up so James could read the cover.

**Unusual Ingredients in Advanced Potion-Making**

'I'll take that as a yes, then.' He lifted his eyes from the book cover and fixed them on hers, his hazel and gold irises burning into her green ones with unusual intensity. There was silence between them for a moment, until James looked away and cleared his throat. She gave herself a mental slap and forced her eyes down; whatever strange feelings he may have been stirring in her lately, he didn't need to know about them.

'Want to give me a hand with it tomorrow?' His voice sounded hopeful, but there was an imploring edge to his tone that made it obvious that he was expecting her to say no.

Lily snorted, a particularly unladylike sound. 'Do I have a choice, or are you going to badger me until I do it to get away from you?'

He prodded her gently in the side. 'Aww, come on Lily, you never want to get away from me, not really.'

Too close to the truth for comfort. She closed her eyes and focused. She tried incredibly hard to remain as unyielding as possible. Then she cursed her weakness in allowing the next words come out of her mouth.

'We can work on it tomorrow after your Quidditch practice if you like.'

James smile grew even wider. 'Really?'

She fought down the urge to respond with a smile of her own, keeping her expression carefully neutral while her mind screamed at her for her sudden irrationality. 'Don't look so happy Potter. If you're an arse at any point, I'm abandoning you. And you have to admit it's likely.'

He feigned a hurt look. 'Me? I'm the very _antithesis _of an arse.'

She smiled despite herself. Bloody sparkly hazel eyes. 'Has Remus been teaching you long words again?'

He poked at her ribs again. 'Ha ha. You're funny.'

'I know.' She pulled her book out of his hands and opened it again, trying to regain her focus. The boy alongside her drummed the fingers of one hand on the arm of the sofa and hummed under his breath. It wasn't loud, but apparently she was hyper-aware of him this evening - every evening would be more accurate - and thinking about him had her mind drifting back to the debacle in that morning's Transfiguration lesson. 'How was your detention?'

James ceased his drumming and allowed his hands to drop to his lap, letting his head fall back to rest on the back of the sofa and closing his eyes as he did so.

'Undeserved?' He offered, his tone bored.

Lily looked at him, her face set in an expression of disbelief. He didn't open his eyes, but she knew he would somehow just_ know_ exactly what face she was pulling at him. He spoke again, a little spark of humour coating his words.

'Oh, come on. Walters is a git, and he looked much better as a rabbit, you have to admit.'

She continued her campaign of exasperated staring at the side of his face, and after a minute of stand-off, she was secretly extremely pleased when he caved first, sighing as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

'It was dull. You'd think wizards would be able to come up with more interesting punishments than organising the potions storeroom wouldn't you?'

Lily turned back to her book and flipped over another page, pretending she wasn't looking at him anymore, when she was, in fact, observing him out of the corner of her eye. It was ridiculous that one person could be so infuriating, so completely bloody vexing and yet somehow incredibly compelling all at the same time. No-one made her angrier, and yet no-one made her laugh more. She'd officially taken leave of her senses. But she couldn't tell _him _any of this, so instead she chose to mock him.

'Well, at least it wasn't hard labour. I doubt your puny body could have taken it.'

James opened one eye and peered at her.

'My physique is the envy of the school, I'll have you know.'

Lily smiled down at her page.

'You keep telling yourself that.'

She began to take notes again, her quill working its way steadily across the parchment as she flipped between pages in her textbook. James stayed, unmoving, in the position he'd settled in.

Lily was aware of James watching her; it was impossible not to be, since it felt like his gaze burnt her flesh wherever it landed. She was fighting to stop the blush rising in her cheeks when he spoke in a low voice, his tone contemplative, but still playful.

'Do you ever wonder if we'll still be doing this when we're like, sixty? Just sitting on a sofa somewhere, just...eating biscuits and talking total crap just for the hell of it?'

For the first time in this conversation, she couldn't tell from his tone or expression if he was serious, so she continued her policy of non-committal, flippant answers even though she felt a strange tug somewhere in her stomach at the image he'd painted.

'How bloody miserable would that be, for both of us? If I'm still associating with you by the time I'm sixty, something will have gone horribly wrong in my life.'

'Oh, come on Evans. You're always going to be a part of my life. We're going to grow old together.'

He said it with such confidence that Lily came very close to just agreeing with him, but she caught herself just in time, before the treacherous words could escape from the tip of her tongue.

'I highly doubt it Potter.'

He gave her the saddest look she'd even seen on another person's face, but she could see the glint of amusement lurking in the very back of his eyes, and she felt the corners of her lips twitch in response. His eyes always gave him away when you knew what to look for, and she knew he was faking that hurt expression, but the damn puppy-dog eyes tugged at her heartstrings and she found herself softening.

'Besides, if we're still acquainted in forty-odd years' time, you'll probably be sporting too much permanent damage from the number of hexes I'll have thrown at you by then to be sat around shooting the breeze.'

The hurt expression melting away to be replaced with that cheerful smirk that had become James Potter's trademark expression.

'Oh yeah? You'd have to improve your aim first.'

Lily nailed him with a sofa cushion.

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The tears left trails down her face; shiny streaks of misery across her pale skin. She locked her hands tighter together and pulled her knees in closer to her chest. It was freezing in the common room, but she couldn't feel it; she doubted she could get any colder anyway, since it felt like she was frozen, inside and out. It was dark, but it didn't matter because her eyes weren't really seeing anything anyway. She simply stared blankly at the empty fireplace, and she was so lost in her own wretched misery that she didn't hear the soft footsteps behind her.

'Lily?'

The very last voice she needed to hear at that moment, when she was sad and vulnerable and hurting, and all too susceptible to him.

'Lily?'

It was closer now, and the concern was clear in his tone. She registered the hand gently touching her shoulder, but she didn't _feel _it. Right then, she wasn't sure she'd ever feel anything again. She was a shell.

James' face appeared in front of her. Worry didn't suit him; James Potter's face wasn't designed to be troubled. His face smiled and joked and made people laugh.

He knelt in front of her, one hand still resting gently on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing soft circles on her skin.

'You're freezing. What are you doing down here?'

She didn't answer. Couldn't. There were some things that couldn't be put into words.

He unbuttoned his pyjama shirt and pulled it off, wrapping it round her shoulders; the warmth and scent of the flannel material engulfed her, and for a moment she felt almost normal again. But only for a moment.

She kept her knees bunched up into her body, and her hands clenched firmly together. He gestured his wand at the fireplace and flames shot up, casting light and warmth over them both. He lowered himself to the floor in front of her, his eyes never leaving her face.

He watched her warily for a few moments, as if he was expecting a meltdown at any second. When she didn't move or speak, he shifted uncomfortably.

'Did something happen?'

Another few frozen moments.

'Is it your dad?'

She was sure she was going to be sick; she felt the heaving motion begin somewhere in her stomach, and her mouth opened instinctively before she choked it down and let out a dry sob.

'He's gone.' Her voice was cracked and damaged, just like she was. 'I saw him a month ago, and he was doing okay, he seemed so _normal._ But he's gone.'

She was still locked in that foetal position, her arms gripping her knees to her for dear life as her knuckles turned white. James was still sat in front of her, his weight propped up on one arm as his open hand supported it, while his other hand was sunk into his hair, gripping it at the roots in that gesture that had always exasperated her so much.

More silence. Then it was broken by James' rich voice, his words hesitant and shaky.

'It wasn't like that with my mum. I knew she was going. She just…wasted away right in front of our eyes. By the end, she was…she was a shell of my mum. There was nothing left of her.'

His hand left his hair to pick imaginary threads out of the carpet and he kept his eyes fixed firmly on his busily moving fingers. 'But still, she was my _mum_, you know? And even though I knew she was going, even though I knew her body was giving up on her, _Merlin,_ it hurt when it finally did. I don't think I really accepted it till she was gone. That she wouldn't be there at home for Christmas, that she wouldn't be there to collect me from the train.'

Lily's eyes moved to rest on the dark-haired boy in front of her, offering up his secrets, his pain, in an attempt to lessen hers. If anything, her heart felt even heavier, even more damaged now she knew he'd carried this exact same hurt inside him. But at the same time, there was a rising need to speak to him about it, an urge to have him make it better, and the knowledge that he was the only one who could.

'Does it…get better?'

He lifted his eyes from the carpet. 'No. It just gets…easier. You ignore the ache for an hour, then a day, until in the end it's just another part of you. But it never goes away. And you wouldn't want it to – that would be letting go.'

Lily nodded slowly. He was the first person who hadn't given her platitudes; time heals all wounds, he went peacefully, _at least he's not suffering anymore._

'You're going to be okay Lily.' It was barely even a whisper. He _breathed _the words, and she felt the comfort of them wrap around her, enclose her.

She nodded slowly, and released her grip on her hands. He was right, she could get through this, recover from this; he had, and he believed she could.

Her legs were heavy and painful, but she used her numb arms to push herself to her feet, her movements decisive. James remained sitting, his face tilted back to look up at her, the candlelight reflecting in his glasses, the light casting shadows on the planes of his face.

'I'm going to bed. Maybe I'll even sleep.' She offered him the weakest of smiles, and one corner of his mouth lifted in response. It just made him look sadder. He pushed himself up until he was stood awkwardly next to her and inclined his head towards the door.

'I'm heading for the kitchens.'

'Right.' She handed him his pyjama shirt and moved towards the staircase to the girls' dorms, and she made it to the third step before her resolve to be strong and independent failed her entirely. She turned and saw him still standing in the spot she'd left him, watching her progress up the stairs with unconcealed anxiety.

'Will you be down early for breakfast, do you think?' She hoped the plea wasn't too obvious in her voice, but at the same time she wanted - _needed - _him to pick up on it.

He managed a more realistic attempt at a smile this time.

'Yeah, I reckon I will be.'

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'What were you thinking?' Lily's voice echoed around the deserted corridor, but there was no-one to hear it but James, and he'd heard more than enough of her angry shouting for one night.

'I was thinking "My, what an incredible git he is! Wouldn't the world be a better place if his mouth spontaneously glued itself shut? Oh wait, I'M A WIZARD!" _That's _what I was thinking Evans.'

Lily crossed her arms in an attempt to stop herself from reaching for her wand. 'So, you thought it would be a good idea to follow through on your insane impulse and _actually _glue his mouth closed? Really?'

James leant up against the wall and regarded her with frustrated eyes. 'Yes, Evans, that was _exactly _my thought process.'

'You don't have a thought process James. That's your problem.'

'_You_ seem to be the only one with a problem here Lily.' James' tone was cool, but she knew him well enough to hear the heat that he was hiding behind that wall of icy indifference.

'_You_ are my problem! You are _Head Boy_!' Lily was raging now, her face flushing and her eyes burning with the anger. 'It may be a joke to you, but the least you could do is _not hex everyone who pisses you off!_'

James pushed off the wall with a swiftness she hadn't known he possessed, and he was right there in front of her, eyes boring into her as he held a frustrated hand in the air to halt her speech.

'It is not a joke to me.' It wasn't a shout. They were angry, heated words spoken in a cold hard voice and Lily found herself trying to take an instinctual step back. Then she straightened her spine and stood tall and unmoving, reminding herself that she was stronger than that, and she wouldn't back down from this.

They stood there for a moment, locked in place, their eyes fixed on each other in a silent battle of wills. They'd had plenty of fights like these before - short-lived blow-ups where they raged and yelled until their tempers mellowed and the storm passed – but in recent months they'd taken on an entirely new feeling of heightened tension. The air _crackled _with it.

'It is not a joke to me.' James repeated. 'You know that.'

'Then why do you disrespect it?' Lily shot back. 'Why do you have to be such an incorrigible arse sometimes? You need to learn to reign in your temper!'

A muscle twitched in James' jaw, and he licked his lips briefly before speaking. 'That _was_ me "reigning in my temper". If you had heard the vile things coming out of his mouth, you would appreciate that I wanted to do far worse.'

Lily sighed. She knew he wouldn't have thrown a jinx at somebody who hadn't done something to provoke it, but that didn't negate the point; that he was supposed to be an authority figure, he was supposed to calmly impose punishments, not mutilate the offender in question. She was _tired_ of arguing this point with him. It was exhausting, and she didn't have the heart to fight with him, not really fight.

'I don't care what he said James. You know the drill; dock points, give detention or refer to a teacher.'

'He was saying them about you.'

He stood there calmly, unmoving, while she gawked at him. The moonlight poured in through the windows, casting shadows across his face that reflected the darkness of his mood. His eyes were dark, as they always were when he was angry and she wondered when she'd learnt his face, his moods so well.

Looking at him as he was now renewed the feeling she sometimes got, like she was being pulled apart; tugged in conflicting directions with no idea which way she should fall. It was at times like these that she would swear that these feelings in the pit of her stomach and the centre of her chest didn't mean anything, _couldn't _mean anything. If this was real, if it was…what she thought it was, shouldn't it just…flow effortlessly? Surely it shouldn't be this _hard_.

He was a relentless prat, an infuriating arse who'd pushed his way into her life, and he knew how to make her angrier than anybody else had ever been able to, and he frustrated and exasperated her in equal measure. But she couldn't imagine a James-shaped hole in her life; no-one to match her temper, or balance her moods, or fix her broken heart. There were times when she found it amazing that he fit so perfectly with her, around her. They had been friends, and it had been easy.

But now…she didn't know what they were now, other than "James and Lily", and it wasn't easy anymore. "James and Lily" would never be easy. Never be simple and relaxed and comfortable. But if she was being totally honest with herself, she didn't think she even wanted easy. She wanted _extraordinary._

'You need to understand, Lily.' James spoke slowly, deliberately, his eyes blazing hot now, the gold flecks in them flashing in the dull candlelight. 'I take being Head Boy seriously, and I _know _you're aware of that. But I will _not _allow anyone to disrespect you. Head Boy, and everything else for that matter, comes second to _you._'

The words hung in the air between them, and they stood there in the moonlight, neither willing to acknowledge what had just passed between them. Something had changed, but neither of them was quite ready to admit it. But there was one thing Lily Evans was suddenly completely aware of; she would rather be worn out with temper and frustration half the time than simply stumble her way through life without ever feeling these waves of emotion crashing through every inch of her body, pulsing in her blood and setting her nerves on fire.

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'Remind me again why we are lying outside with a bottle of firewhisky in January?' James voice was lightly amused as he passed the half-empty bottle over to Lily.

'Because it's my birthday and I wanted to be alone, but you said I wasn't allowed to be alone on my birthday, so this was our compromise.' Lily answered once she'd lowered the bottle from her lips and handed it back to him. 'And there's no possibility of anyone else overhearing our game of Truth out here. And it's your question by the way.'

'Then my question is: why do you hate your birthday?'

Lily sighed. 'Can't you ask me something else?'

'Of course I could, but this is what I want to ask.'

Lily hesitated, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. James' expression faltered for a moment and he touched her hand cautiously. 'Don't answer…'

'It reminds me that I'm not really part of my family anymore.' She blurted it out before he could finish his sentence and release her from the obligation. His face was dumbfounded at her words, and Lily hurried to elaborate, wanting to pour it out now before she lost the nerve.

'Birthdays were a big thing in our house when I was little. Presents and cakes and parties. It was the day you got everything your own way, and everything revolved around you, you know?'

She looked to him for confirmation that he did indeed understand what she was saying, and he nodded once to encourage her to continue. His hand was still lightly brushing hers, and she took courage from the warmth. She looked up at the sky so she wouldn't have to see his face and carried on.

'When I got my Hogwarts letter, I was so excited it never occurred to me that it meant I'd be away from home for my birthday. The first few years, they sent me presents and cakes and stuff through the owl post, and they'd always write in the card that we'd do something for my birthday at Easter instead. I'd get a day in the holidays when I could pick what we did, and everyone would have to go along with it, because it was my substitute birthday.'

She paused to take a breath, and when her eyes met James', all she saw was silent encouragement and understanding. 'Fourth year, I got a card and a present, but no mention of a day at Easter. When I got home for the holidays, my parents said they thought I was too old for that kind of thing now. And it's been that way since then.'

She dropped her eyes again, fixing them on the patch of dandelions nearby that she could just see the outline of. 'But Petunia still has her birthday parties and whatever. She's almost two years older than me, but she's not "too old for that kind of thing". She's at home with them all the time, and I'm not, and I'm drifting away from them. I don't belong in their world, and they don't belong in mine. My birthday…it's just an annual reminder of that.'

James reached his hand up and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it carefully behind her ear and gently touching the skin of her neck with his roughened fingertips. They were frozen for a moment, a peculiar tableau, until the cry of a thestral in the forbidden forest brought them out of whatever strange moment they were stuck in.

James pulled his hand back and sat up straighter, the bottle of firewhisky still resting against his leg. He picked it up and drank quickly before offering it to her. She shook her head; she could feel the alcohol in her system, and she knew it wouldn't take much more before she did something extremely stupid.

'Your question.' His voice was quieter than usual, and his tone was different now too, laced with the sympathy she knew he wouldn't articulate because he knew she wouldn't want it from him. She lay down and angled her body so her face was turned slightly away from him, and her mouth blurted whatever random question she thought of first, because there were too many things she wanted to ask him but couldn't, and it was too tempting in the dark and the quiet with firewhisky pumping through her blood, and his presence flooding her senses.

'What was the first magic you ever did?'

'Can't remember.'

Lily rolled over to stare incredulously at James' profile. 'Who can't remember the first time they did magic?'

James turned his head to look at her and rolled his eyes, putting the bottle of firewhisky back down between them. 'Me apparently. I grew up with magical parents remember? It was just normal for me. And I was expecting to be able to do magic, so it probably wasn't much of a shock when I did.'

She had to acknowledge his point there. She could remember when she'd started doing magic because it had been amazing and terrifying and unexpected and unexplainable. For him, magic had just_ been_.

'Okay then; what's your favourite thing about magic?'

'Flying.' He answered instantly, rolling onto his back and stretching his limbs out until he was lying alongside her.

Lily scoffed. 'All the magical things in the world, and he picks _flying_.'

James stared up at the stars, his face utterly peaceful. 'You're not allowed to make fun of my answers.'

'Why not?'

'Because they're the truth, and you're not allowed to pick on me for telling the truth. I might start lying to you.'

Lily stared at the outline of his face, just visible in the darkness of the Quidditch pitch. 'Do you lie to me James?'

She could see him considering his answer for a moment.

'No.'

'Never?' She was aware she sounded a little sceptical.

'Not anymore.' He turned his head to the side, and she could see his eyes now, see the absolute truth in them.

'Why not?'

'You don't ask me awkward questions.'

She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. 'I'm serious.'

'So was I. If you ask me something I can't - or don't want to tell you – I just say I can't tell you and you drop it. I don't lie to you because you don't make me.' He paused for a moment before he carried on, and she could tell from his expression that he was speaking against his better judgement now. 'There's not much I hide from you Lily, but I appreciate that you let me keep my secrets when I need to.'

It was at times like this, when he was sincere and candid, that she felt the weight of their friendship – if that's what it was - resting on her. It didn't make any sense when you assessed up the two people involved, she knew that.

James Potter: pure-blood, troublemaker, Quidditch player.

Lily Evans: Muggle-born, responsible student, avid reader.

Despite all that, sometimes she thought that they matched up perfectly even though they technically had nothing in common. What did those things mean anyway? They were labels, tiny parts of the whole, and she knew that at the core of things, that it didn't matter that she and James weren't the same because they were interlocking pieces of the same puzzle instead.

They'd slowly learnt about each other over the course of their schooling together, even more so this year when their proximity to each other had been forced. She knew him, and he knew her, and _that_ scared the hell out of her, because sometimes she worried that he knew her well enough to read her thoughts and feelings in her eyes, and she didn't seem to have that much control over them recently.

She clasped her hands on her stomach and twined her fingers together nervously. 'Can I have a free question? Because it's my birthday?'

James nodded slowly, his eyes still resting on hers. She couldn't ask the question she really wanted to; it was lodged somewhere between her heart and her throat. So she asked the only related question she thought he'd actually answer.

'Have you ever been in love?' The question was a whisper, and she wouldn't have been sure he'd even heard it if his posture hadn't instantly stiffened. There was a moment of awkward silence, and she was seconds away from taking back her question when he answered.

'Yes.'

Just one word. And she knew from the way he said it that it was all she would get from him on the subject. It might have been enough.

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Lily rested her chin on her hand and stared out the window at the storm that felt like it was shaking the foundations of the castle. At least the weather suited her mood; raging and destructive.

The rain battered against the window and she could hear the wind howling, but she was removed from it all, tucked up alone in her window nook in a deserted classroom.

She heard the door open behind her, and she closed her eyes in exasperation. Couldn't you get a moment's peace to be miserable in this bloody castle? She twisted in her seat, fully prepared to vent her frustrations and inflict harsh punishment on whoever was invading her welcome solitude. What she was not prepared for was James Potter.

He was outlined in the doorway, his stance tense. She curled her legs tighter into her body and turned her head back to the window, staring out vacantly in the hope that he would take her lack of response for exactly what it was; an invitation to bugger off.

James had never been good with subtlety though, and he proved it again now as she heard the door swing shut and his footsteps make their way across the room. She felt the warmth radiating off his skin as he stood behind her, and she could smell the unique scent that always seemed to surround him; a mixture of peppermint and parchment and leather.

'Hell of a storm.' His voice was carefully neutral; she could tell that he was nowhere near as unruffled as he was pretending to be. She wanted him to go away, or at least have the decency to fight with her if she was going to be forced to suffer his presence, so she scoffed at his attempt at polite conversation.

'Small talk about the weather? Really?'

She could see his outline reflected in the darkened glass of the window, so she saw his body stiffen and tense up at her snarky words. His hands were dug into his pockets and his shoulders were hunched forward. His tone was certainly less cool when he spoke again, and she felt a brief thrill at the idea that she might be able to push him into losing his composure.

'Okay, let's go for a different approach then; what the hell was that about?'

'What?' She kept that same hint of scorn in her voice, recognising that she was pushing him, but wanting to force a reaction from him. The deep, calming breath he sucked in before he spoke again told her that she was definitely pushing his buttons. Obviously. She knew exactly how to provoke him.

'You just yelled at the entire common room, docked about fifty points and gave out seven detentions in under three minutes before stomping out. It doesn't take a genius to see that you're obviously testy about something.''

'I'm not _testy,_ they were being loud, irresponsible gits.'

'Come on Lily, you've been snarling at everyone who comes near you for days! You snapped at Remus yesterday. Remus! Quite possibly the least aggravating person on the planet. You can't kid me that there isn't a problem.'

James' voice had risen in volume now, and Lily allowed herself a small, petty feeling of victory that she had caused him to slip, that she could affect his moods like he could hers.

She answered him in a deliberately off-hand manner. 'Even if there was, it would be none of your business.'

His reflection in the window blurred as he moved closer, and his hands came out of his pockets as he folded his arms across his chest. Typical James Potter infuriated posture. 'It's my business on several levels.'

'Oh really?' Her words carried a mocking tone, and she could see his jawline clench in his window mirror-image. He was definitely going to lose his temper, and that would be a blessed relief because then they could _fight_, and this horrible ball of uncertainty and wretchedness that she'd been carrying in the pit of her stomach for weeks could go away. Fighting with him would be normal, would be better than this strange tension that had been building between them recently. She needed the ache to go away. She was tired of the half glances, the stilted conversation and the taut silences and surely something between them had to burst or they'd both suffocate under the burden of this pressure.

'Look Evans, first off, I have to work with you and you're barely speaking to me lately. Secondly, you can't just go off at everyone who annoys you; you made two second years cry yesterday. And thirdly, you're my friend, and whatever bothers you bothers me, so just tell me; exactly who or what has pissed in your cauldron?'

He was shouting at her by the end of his final sentence, and she_ didn't_ feel better, and it _didn't_ feel like they were back to normal, it felt _awful_. Because this wasn't their everyday bickering and it wasn't one of their heated debates, and she didn't really want to fight with him and _she didn't want to be his sodding friend._

The weight of the realisation felt like it was crushing her lungs, so she rushed out the only words she felt capable of producing at that moment.

'Just…leave me alone.'

'No.'

Bloody, stubborn, infuriating git. She couldn't stand to have him so near when she felt like this and they were alone. It was too hard to be rational when they were alone.

'Get out James.'

'Fine, I'm going. I'm done. But let me tell you Evans, I've had enough of listening to you yell at me, or anybody else for that matter. I'm sick and tired of dealing with your crappy mood, day in, day out. So from now on, you can sod off!' His voice had hardened into that cold tone, and she was glad his face was a blur in the window, because she didn't want to see his expression. She felt rather than heard him turn and walk back towards the door, and the sudden coldness pressing on her back where he had been was terrifying. She felt the first of the tears slide down her face and her throat constricted as she forced back the sobs that fought so hard to get out.

His hand touched the door handle, but he got no further. She may have been silent, but he knew she was crying. She was hurting and he didn't know why and that meant he couldn't leave. He sighed and turned back to her, crossing the room to stand behind her once more, arms folded as he observed her slumped and defeated posture.

'I can't deal with this anymore. School, family, friends…you.'

Her voice was low and small and utterly desolate. He said nothing, but she took his silence as encouragement.

'I don't know how I feel about anything anymore. I used to be so…in control, so _together_. I had plans, I knew what I wanted. And now, it's like _everything_ confuses me. I have no idea what I'm going to do when I leave school, or even what I want for my future. And I know everyone gets overwhelmed with this stuff sometimes, but I'm…I'm…_stuck_, between two worlds, neither of which I'm completely welcome in. I don't belong with my family anymore, but I don't belong anywhere else either.'

There was a moment of silence in which only the wind raged and the rain poured. They balanced there in that moment, the both of them aware that – one way or another - this was where they fell.

'You could belong with me.'

Her head whipped up at the words, her body twisting round to face him, tears momentarily forgotten as she stared at him. He stood watching her, solemn and steady, his eyes meeting hers with unwavering intensity. She tried to keep breathing normally, but she felt like no air entered her lungs.

He moved cautiously towards her, and slowly and deliberately settled himself down in the window seat so he was facing her, his thigh brushing against her bent legs as he leaned in towards her. His hand reached out to brush her hair back behind her ear in that familiar gesture, that seemed to have a strange new sensation to it in that moment, and instead of withdrawing it he allowed it to linger on the skin of her cheek.

'You could, Lily.'

And then James Potter leant in and kissed Lily Evans. Just a soft, hesitant brush of lips, a gentle mingling of breaths at first, then a firm press of lips on lips, then finally a desperate grab at each other's mouths. Their teeth clashed and their tongues tangled and then they were drowning in each other's scent and feel; his hands cupping her face and the tips of his fingers twisted into her hair, her hands holding his wrists to keep him there, keep him touching her skin, because she was finally,_ finally_, where she was meant to be and for the first time in _weeks _there was no knot in her stomach, no weight pulling her down.

When they eventually had to stop kissing, because it was either that or stop breathing, Lily was the first to find her voice.

'Oh God James, we're in trouble here aren't we?'

James answered her worried expression with a cocky grin before her hauled her back in to send her mind tumbling again. He pulled his lips from hers long enough to offer an answer.

'Yeah. But that's nothing new to me.'

Then he was kissing her again, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, like there was nothing else in the world more important than that very moment, there in the window seat of an empty classroom. She clung on to him, because letting go of him was unthinkable, and he nipped at her bottom lip and she dug her fingertips into his shoulders, and they poured every ounce of built-up frustration into each other until her lips broke free and she gasped out the only thought that remained in her head.

'You can't…we _can't _James. Think how much abuse you'd get for dating a muggle-born.'

James ran soothing thumbs up her cheekbones, his smile unfazed by her sudden outbreak of nerves and second thoughts. He pressed his lips to each of her eyebrows in turn and then traced the line of her jaw with them before he whispered in her ear.

'Apparently, you underestimate what I'm willing to go through when it comes to you; you might just be worth the trouble Lily Evans. Now stop talking.'

******__****(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) __****(J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L) (J&L)**

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and if you have a minute to leave a review, I would love to hear what you think. All feedback is appreciated, since this is a bit outside my normal style; it's quite a lot more angsty than I usually write James & Lily; I think that's why most of this didn't make it into Turning Tables (my WIP Jily fic, for those of you who aren't reading it).**

**I'm also on Tumblr, so feel free to shoot me a message on there if you would rather do that!**


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